


Help Us

by carefully_careless



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Detective & Medium AU, Gore, It'll make sense, Like, M/M, Murder, Ryan can see ghosts, Tags to be added, What else do i call it, he's a dude that can see ghosts, so that's fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-02-27 15:11:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13250856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carefully_careless/pseuds/carefully_careless
Summary: Shane Madej is faced with a series of cases that lead to nowhere and vivid dreams to match.Maybe Ryan can use those dreams to an advantage?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Description of some pretty disturbing injuries

Shane hates getting calls. Specifically, ones that pertain to his job. They always occur at the most inconvenient times. It seems the killers can never wait until Shane is out of the new Star Wars movie to strike, or perhaps in the middle of dinner with his dog. Those are two things you just don’t interrupt. Because of this, Shane lets out a loud groan as he hears his ringtone, a chirpy tune that doesn’t really match the situations that come with it. He turns off the running water, having been about to take a shower like a normal human being would at 10 at night. Whatever.  
  
“Shane Madej,” he says by way of greeting and his boss’s voice is acerbic.  
  
“There’s a new murder. We need you at the scene pronto.”  
  
“Right,” Shane grunts, balancing the phone between his shoulder and ear as he begins rebuttoning his shirt, throwing the door open to search for his jacket and badge. He registers the address and hangs up, tapping it into his notes. He trots down the stairs, dialing the number of his colleague and friend, TJ.  
  
“Yo,” TJ answers, sounding out of breath. “Did you get the text too?”  
  
“Call,” Shane corrects him, slipping into his car and turning the key. Why, oh why, can’t this happen at a practical time? Maybe noon?  
  
Great, Shane, now you’re justifying times to murder people.  
  
“Ah, Shane Madej, always more important than me,” TJ says comically and Shane barks a laugh.  
  
“You know it.”  
  
……  
  
Shane tugs his coat closer to his body, having underestimated the cold of January. It’s California, Jesus, tone it down. He flashes his badge at the officers standing guard and is allowed to duck under the yellow tape. Bright blue and red lights invade his vision and he squints at the outline of TJ, who talks to an intern. He notices Shane and smiles.  
  
“There’s our detective!”  
  
Shane blinks, unamused, and TJ lets the grin slip from his face. He claps his hands and gestures for Shane to follow him. “The victim’s name is Victoria Stille, nicknamed Vicky. Nine-year-old female. She was found in her room by her babysitter, Elaine Bush at 9:45 pm.”  
  
Shane nods, letting TJ lead him into a grand white house. “State?”  
  
TJ hesitates, looking over his shoulder with a grimace as he crosses the threshold. “Not so pretty.”  
  
Shane wrinkles his brows, preparing himself for the worst. In the two years he’s worked with TJ, they’ve seen gruesome bodies distorted in ways you can only hope will stay in your nightmares.  
  
“She was found on the bed. Sliced vocal chords, deep bruising in the shape of fingerprints along the wrists, 11 stab wounds in different parts of the body, and all fingers were broken.” TJ finishes, seeing the growing horror on Shane’s face. “Yeah,” he says with a sigh. “It’s sick.”  
  
“Where were the parents,” Shane asks, trying to shake the wretched image out of his head.  
  
“Awards dinner for the father’s company. They were supposed to get home at eleven, but came when the babysitter called.”  
  
“Which was?”  
  
“Right after she called the police.”  
  
“Were there any signs of forced entry?” Shane asks, brushing past a short woman wearing bloodied gloves.  
  
“See for yourself,” TJ says, gesturing to the room at the top of a large staircase, door wide and room teeming with officers. He hands Shane a pair of latex gloves and Shane takes the prompt, climbing the stairs.  
  
Anything that Shane would have done to mentally prepare for whatever he was going to see couldn’t have made a dent. Shane has to pause in the doorway, forcing down bile, before entering and…  
  
“Geez,” he mutters, circling the bed. The sheets are blood-soaked, the body lays mangled in the original position.  
  
“They waited for you to take a look before they move the body, so everything’s the way it was when she was found,” TJ points out from behind Shane, who nods in response.  
  
Trying not to focus on the body itself, Shane takes to sweeping the room, looking for anything that looks recently disturbed. “When did they call the death?”  
  
“Couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes before the call,” TJ answers, sounding distant.  
  
Shane turns to the window, tracing a finger along the pane. Is it…Yeah, it’s locked. Shane sketches a brow, peeking out of the window. “Hey,” he calls over his shoulder, “did any of our people close this window?”  
  
“No?”  
  
Shane hums, trying to flip the lock. Though doable, it takes some effort. The effort that a murderer trying to escape a scene doesn’t have time to put forth. And with no balcony or tree near the window? That’s a two-story fall.  
  
“Think it could have been the babysitter?”  
  
“No,” TJ says. “They interviewed her and her alibi checked out. She was watching tv up until she went upstairs to check on the kid. There was a nanny cam in the living room. Fast forwarded it and it was just her watching tv.”  
  
“I want to talk to her,” Shane says with finality. TJ sighs and lets Shane eye the room once more before leading him into another room on the second floor. It looks like a library or…tea room? A girl that looks just about 18 sits at a small brown table, eyes red-rimmed from crying and dark hair mussed up. Her dark skin is illuminated by a lamp and her fingers tremble.  
  
Shane clears his throat, prompting TJ to leave before he pulls a chair out from under the table. “Hi,” he says gently. “You must be Elaine?”  
  
The girl nods, taking a shaky breath.  
  
“I’m Shane. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?”  
  
Elaine sniffs, coughing. “Sure.” Her voice is thick with tears.  
  
“What was Victoria like?” Start off simple. Get the girl used to talking. She lets out a breathy laugh.  
  
“She was the sweetest kid. I came with box braids one week and she about died. Wore her hair in two braids for a month because she said she wanted to be pretty like me.”  
  
Shane gives Elaine a close-lipped smile. “How long have you been her babysitter?”  
  
“Eight, maybe nine months?” Elaine wraps her arms around herself.  
  
“In that time, did she ever talk about seeing someone following her? Do you think she had a stalker?”  
  
Elaine shivers. “She never talked about anything like that. And it’s not like we keep the house open. Lock all the doors and windows, close all the curtains, top-notch security system.”  
  
Shane hums in response, scribbling in a notebook he pulled out of his jacket pocket. “Have you ever considered her annoying?”  
  
“Annoying? No. I mean, it was like having a little sister begging for you to play dolls but I was always more than happy to.” She looks up with wide eyes. “If you’re thinking I did it, I swear on my own life I didn’t. I loved her,” she says desperately.  
  
“I understand,” Shane says, holding his hands up. “Just covering all our bases, here.” Elaine nods, settling back down in her chair.  
  
“What do the parents do?”  
  
Elaine presses her lips together. “The mom’s a physician and the dad’s an engineer.”  
  
“Alright. Did Victoria do anything outside of school?”  
  
Elaine frowns in thought. “Well, she used to do soccer, but she’s been dancing since she was seven.”  
  
“Mhm,” Shane says, writing it down as she talks. “How often do you watch her?”  
  
“Every Friday. It’s the parents’ date night. I’m only doing it tonight because of the dinner they were going to.”  
  
“Okay. What made you go check on her? Did you hear anything?”  
  
“No, nothing. I’ll usually pop my head in every hour or so to make sure she’s okay. That’s why I went in.” Elaine’s breathing becomes heavier as she talks. “That’s what kills me, y’know? I could have stopped it. She’d be alive and-,”  
  
“Hey,” Shane interjects quietly, “It’s not your fault, okay? You didn’t know. That’s what’s so odd about this. There’s no sign of anyone coming in.”  
  
“No one came in the front or back. I would have seen them.”  
  
“Did you hear footsteps?”  
  
“None,” Elaine replies and Shane nods, deep in thought. He lets out a short whistle and the door flies open, a young officer awaiting commands.  
  
“I want all windows on the second floor to be inspected. See if any are unlocked.” The man nods and exits the room, closing the door. Shane leans back in his chair, studying the details. Someone knew that the parents were going to be gone. Someone Shane intends to find.  
  
………….  
  
Shane sighs, slipping his gloves off and passing the scene. He glances I the room, seeing that the body was removed. He makes his way down the stairs, meeting TJ by the front door.  
  
“Any ideas?”  
  
Shane shakes his head, zipping his coat up. “I’ll get with the parents tomorrow.”  
  
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep after that,” TJ mumbles, giving a visible shudder.  
  
“Yeah,” Shane agrees quietly. “What disturbs me is that this is a crime of passion. You don’t do this to just anyone. What grudge could someone hold against a nine-year-old kid?”  
  
TJ shrugs. “That’s what we have to figure out.”  
  
…………  
  
Shane stretches, switching the tv off and letting darkness fill his bedroom. As he rests on the pillow, he considers everything once more, trying to digest the facts and piece together a lead. After coming up with nothing—again—he lets his eyes close.  
  
The last thing he sees is the empty blue eyes and frighteningly pale skin of the girl.  
  
………………  
  
“Hello!” A voice chirps, forcing Shane to jump. He’s in the room he was in with Elaine, only before him are two brilliantly bright blue eyes. “I’m Victoria.” The girl's voice is high and sweet and her hair is a pale blonde resting on her shoulders. Her skin is unblemished, her form small in a robin’s egg nightgown.  
  
Shane blinks, swallowing his confusion. He’s asleep, that he knows. “I’m—I’m Shane. Hi.”  
  
The girl stands calmly. “You gotta help us, Mister.”  
  
“Help you? Who’s us?”  
  
Slowly, her form morphs, becoming more and more battered until her corpse stands before him. The only difference is that her eyes are still alert, gorgeous and bright.  
  
“Help us.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> idk man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Murder investigation *jazz hands*

“Shit,” Shane groans as he sits up, squinting in the darkness of his room. He turns tired eyes to his alarm clock, letting out a whine when he sees that it’s only 6:00 in the morning. Normally, he’d have Sundays off, but in cases like this? No way, Jose.  
  
Though he’s expected at the station to meet with TJ at ten, he shoves the heavy blankets off of his body, shaking off the countless dreams that invaded his thoughts. Dream after dream after dream. All of them took place in some room of the house, always starting out with the sweet face of Victoria before melting into her final form. It would always end with the words “Help us”, like a curtain closing on a scene in a play.  
  
Hell, these weren’t dreams. They were nightmares.  
  
In the shower, Shane tries not to close his eyes. Even though it’s a pretty common fear that something is in the shower, ready to kill when you close your eyes, Shane now has something to picture. It definitely isn’t pretty.  
  
Though thoughts about the case are often good ways to distract himself, Shane finds himself loathing the silence of his apartment, reminding him once again that he is alone. Now, he can’t wait to get to work.  
  
………  
  
“Hey, man, what’s—Jesus Christ, Shane did you sleep at all?” TJ uncrosses his arms, looking genuinely concerned. Shane waves off the question.  
  
“I did. Anything new with the case?”  
  
“We can get to that in a minute. What kept you up? And don’t say nothing. It looks like Valentino designed your eye bags. What’s up?”  
  
“Just the case,” Shane lies. Okay, it technically isn’t a lie, as the dream in question contains a character…Just go with it, Shane. “Just the case,” he mirrors himself and TJ rolls his eyes.  
  
“In that case, you’re stupid. Staying up thinking about the case is gonna impair your thinking, you idiot.”  
  
Shane shrugs. “I’m heading down to the morgue in a little bit to see if Jen found anything new. Get the parents ready to have lunch with me at one.”  
  
TJ nods, looking down to no doubt send that order to a lower officer. “Lunch?” He says with a lifted brow. “That’s not your interrogation style.”  
  
“Then it isn’t an interrogation.” Shane points a finger to nothing. “It’s just a life chat with some…hidden intent.” With a wink, he turns on his heel and is out of the glass doors of the station, leaving TJ to chuckle.  
  
………  
  
“Hey Jen,” Shane says by greeting, letting the door swing open. The room is sterile, a near impossible shade of white, save for the gray metal chamber drawers lining the wall. Jen, the mortician that Shane quickly became friends with, whirls around.  
  
“Shane, hey!” She slips her gloves off, bloody from something she examined on a small table.  
  
“So, Victoria Stille. Did you get a confirmed time of death?”  
  
Jen nods, slipping around Shane to grab a clipboard. “Approximately 9:32 pm. Before you ask, I didn’t find any external injuries that the others didn’t. Most everything is at face value.”  
  
Shane sighs at how she included the ‘most’, knowing how dramatic she is. “What did you find?” It’s more of an order than a question and Jen holds her hands up.  
  
“Okay, okay.” She crosses the impeccably clean room and unzips a clear bag, revealing a slightly cleaner version of Victoria Stille’s corpse. The blood is gone, letting Shane get a better look at the actual wounds. He hears the snap of gloves and Jen goes to gently pull apart the skin of the girl’s lower stomach. “Pancreas. Completely gone.”  
  
“Pancreas?” Shane mirrors in genuine confusion. “Why would anyone want that?”  
  
Jen shrugs, zipping the bag back up. “That’s your job to find out. Have any ideas on who did it?”  
  
“Still working on a base right now. I talked with the babysitter last night. If anything, she’d be the last to kill her.”  
  
Jen takes the gloves off, depositing them in a white bin and turning with a smirk. “Was it the butler? The chef?”  
  
“This isn’t Clue, Jen,” Shane sighs, propping his hip on a steel table.  
  
“In the library with the candlestick,” Jen taunts and Shane rolls his eyes with a laugh.  
  
“Alright, whatever.” He slips a pen from his shirt pocket and scribbles the word ‘Pancreas’ on his hand. “I better get going. TJ’s gonna flip when he hears about this.”  
  
“Okay,” Jen says, leaving Shane to go back to whatever she was doing beforehand. “Tell him I said hi.”  
  
“Will do,” Shane calls over his shoulder as the heavy door falls shut behind him, leaving him alone in the long white hall. He snatches his phone from his pocket, dialing TJ’s number. “Hey, man,” he says when the obnoxious ringing ceased. “You’re not gonna believe this.”  
  
“Oh?” TJ questions, sounding like his mouth is full of food. “Explain.”  
  
“Right,” Shane says, turning the corner and maneuvering his way to the front entrance, where his tiny black car sits outside. “So, Jen reiterated that there weren’t any more external injuries.”  
  
“External?” TJ muses, followed by the sound of swallowing. “You’re gonna hit me with some Jack the Ripper shit, aren’t you?”  
  
Shane laughs as the January breeze lifts his hair, making it look far messier than it usually does. He digs his car key out of his pocket and unlocks the old thing, sliding in the leather seats as he talks. “The pancreas is missing.”  
  
The other side of the line is silent and TJ slowly mumbles his confusion. After a low string of curses, he clears his throat. “Okay, so a sicko murders a child and takes the pancreas.” His voice still has hints of disbelief as he tries to sort out his thoughts. After Shane hums an affirmation, TJ’s voice perks up. “Well,” he says optimistically, “find a pancreas and we’ll find our killer.”  
  
“Right,” Shane laughs, hanging up and shaking his head, turning the radio up. The previous night’s horrors had escaped him for most of his time driving to the morgue, as work will usually shut his mind up, but now the echo of the girl’s pathetic voice rings in his ears.  
  
“Help us. Help us. Helps us.” The phrase is like a siren in his head and Shane grimaces against the eerie tone the girl carries. It’s plain desperation. It’s from hell.  
  
Shane bites on his tongue, quickly remembering the route to a sandwich shop a few miles east and texting TJ to get the parents there within 20 minutes.  
  
……..  
  
“Mr. and Mrs. Stille,” Shane grins, seeing the couple nervously approach him. “A pleasure to see you.” He gestures for them to follow him to a tale in the corner, low in light but high in privacy.  
  
“Thank you for coming on such short notice.” His smile is professional, gentle and reassuring It’s the smile he uses on all the victims’ families.  
  
“Thank you for having us,” the mother says weakly, tucking a blonde strand of hair behind her ear.  
  
“Of course.” He digs his notepad out of his bag and uncaps his pen. “Do you mind?” He asks the couple and their quick to shake their heads. “Well, can you tell me what happened before you left or the awards dinner yesterday?”  
  
Mr. Stille nods, gently grabbing his wife’s hand. “We called Elaine and told her that the dinner had been rescheduled, apologized for the short notice, and offered to pay more. She came and sat with V—Victoria,” his voice breaks. “She knew where the food was, so we trusted that Vicky would be fed. We left. That’s it.”  
  
Shane nods, steadily copying the man’s words. “Did you notice any suspicious cars near your house?”  
  
“No.” Mrs. Stille’s voice is a bit stronger than it was before and Shane glances up, studying her.  
  
“Did you have any enemies at work? Anyone that didn’t get the promotion you got?”  
  
“You think one of our coworkers killed Victoria?” Mr. Stille’s voice shows pure bewilderment and Shane taps his finger against the table.  
  
“We’ve had more immediate people do worse. Answer the question, please.”  
  
“No, not for me. David hasn’t mentioned anything,” Mrs. Stille answers, laying her hand on her husband’s—David’s—forearm. David shakes his head in agreement.  
  
Shane wrinkles his eyebrows, scanning the questions inn his head. What did he want to ask? “Were there any family members that have a history of violence?”  
  
No.  
  
“Can you think of anyone who might have motive to?”  
  
No.  
  
“Has she been near anyone displaying stalker-like characteristics?”  
  
No.  
  
They give him nothing of use and Shane finally admits to himself that the parents, complete brick walls, won’t get him anywhere. “Well,” he sighs, flipping his book closed. “Thank you again for your compliance and patience.”  
  
Mrs. Stille nods, tears threatening to spill. “Thank you so much for helping us, Mr. Madej.”  
  
Shane blinks.  
  
Helping us.  
  
Help us.  
  
Help us.  
  
…….  
  
Shane shoots forward in his bed, a sheen of sweat upon his brow. His heart thunders in his chest and his wide eyes land on the figures in the corner of the room. Victoria and another woman in old clothing. Her eyes are big and brown and gentle.  
  
“Help us,” she says sweetly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ryan is about to take the stage, so that's fun.  
> Thanks for reading! Let me know if you liked!

**Author's Note:**

> Idk man I got this idea in the shower and started building off of it. It gets better and our boi Ryan will come in shortly.  
> Let me know if you like it???  
> I live for comments.  
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
